


Just 'Cause You're a Gentleman

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, F/M, Getting Together, Misunderstandings, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-04-15 04:44:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4593285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Navigating a teenage romance is never easy. Add misunderstandings, werewolves, and <i>Stiles</i> to the equation, and things become exponentially harder. In this case, Stiles would like it on record that no one told him there were werewolves. <i>Werewolves, people.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aZfR7qc0WVs) because when I first saw it on Facebook it was just the dancing part wasn't a great quality video so all I could see was Stiles and Malia. This was spawned from that and kinda got a bit out of hand compared to the short little drabble I thought it would be.
> 
> I'm not really a fan of canon verse Stalia (sooo many problematic things were glossed over with canon Malia) and therefore don't really ship it, but I could not get this out of my head. (In case it's not obvious, 'Malia Tate' is Malia Hale here.) Characters, tags, and all that will update as the story does but the rating will stay the same (if not go down). Concrit's always welcome and feel free to let me know if you find spelling/grammar mistakes.
> 
> Disclaimer: Re-reading through this made me feel like I'd been trying to advertise for Jamba Juice the entire time... That was not my intention but if any Jamba Juice wants to contact me and pay me to do so, please go ahead! :P

Malia was having such a bad day. No, you know what? Scratch that, she was having a bad _week._ On Tuesday her boyfriend had broken up with her–and sure he had been a bit of an asshole at times but she had liked him and it still sucked. Malia had thought they were maybe going to last, or at least longer than they had. Then on Wednesday she realized she didn’t have her phone, and couldn’t find it anywhere, only to realize she’d left it in Matt’s car after he broke up with her. There was no way she was going to get it back now, Matt had could be unnecessarily cruel when he wanted to. And to top it all off, Friday, the day she’d decided to take a break from life and just have a day to herself, Malia was wrangled into babysitting her three little cousins. 

She tended to call them monsters for a reason.

So yes, needless to say, Malia felt exhausted and a little bit angry at the world, sue her.

It was almost the end of summer before her senior year and she’d thought summer was supposed to be the time of carefree happiness and romance and all those other high school clichés, but obviously Malia had been subscribing to the wrong worldview. Now it was Friday afternoon and in an attempt to scrounge up some good from the week, Malia decided to try to enjoy the rest of the day. Only, it was hot and she was tired and maybe not in the best mood for dealing with people. 

A smoothie. Smoothies made everything better. Malia figured she could kill two birds with one stone, she would quell the heat _and_ her current hatred for the world by going to Jamba Juice. A foolproof plan, if she did say so herself.

Walking to and through town helped her mood, marginally. Malia had always loved both the forest and the simple beauty that Beacon Hills somehow encaptured. 

As she got to the street she knew the Jamba Juice was on, Malia went to push her bangs out of her face only for her fingers to get stuck. She then had the angering realization that her little brat cousins had been successful in their attempts to get partially chewed gum in her hair. All traces of a good mood left her. She gave a sigh of defeated frustration that probably ended up sounding more like a whine before stopping and turning to look at herself in one of the reflective store window to her right. Malia stared at herself and turned her head to the side to try and get a good view of the potential damage. Objectively, it could definitely have been worse, but that didn’t make her feel any better at the moment. 

It was a painfully slow process, but Malia managed to get the majority of the stuff out of her hair. If someone looked too hard, however, they’d see the streaks of berry-pink gunk still left there. With much less enthusiasm than she’d begun her trip with, Malia continued on her way because she was already there, and because now that she’d thought about it so much, she really wanted a smoothie, damn it! 

If Malia were in a cartoon, she’d probably have her own personal storm cloud floating around above her, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She was just going to get in, get a smoothie, get out, and then go kill her cousins. No biggie. 

That thought served to lighten her mood ever so slightly. She quirked her lips and huffed a laugh under her breath as she neared the store’s doors. To Malia’s surprise, a boy she vaguely recognized from school actually held the door open for her. He made an over exaggerated gesture for her to enter before him.

Malia offered him a quick, small smile of thanks and stepped inside the otherwise empty shop. She could feel the boy’s presence behind her as she walked up to the counter to order. She couldn’t think of his name for the life of her. She remembered it was something odd that she’d heard people make fun of. Like… Oh! Stiles. That was his name. Some of the girls in their year had joked about the irony of his name being ‘Stiles’ when, in their opinion, he had absolutely no ‘style’. In fact, Malia was pretty sure that was a running joke and had been for a while. She really didn’t see what what so funny about it.

“Hey guys, welcome to Jamba Juice. What can I get started for you today?” Malia was pulled out of her musings by the guy behind the counter. 

“Um,” she didn’t know why she bothered scanning the menu, she always got the same thing, “Can I get a medium Strawberries Wild?”

“Sure, anything else? Would you like to add any boosts?” 

“Nope, that’s it.”

“Okay, that’ll be five-eighty-four and then I’ll have that coming right up for you,” he said with a smile. As she reached into her pocket for her wallet Malia wondered if the guy was genuinely that unbearably peppy or if he was just playing it up to try and get good customer service reviews.

Malia opened her wallet only to swear under her breath when she found it empty of everything except for her driver’s license. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” She’d had at least twenty five dollars in there, her debit card, and a bunch of gift cards–including one to Jamba Juice! Malia was going to kill everyone one of her relatives and it would be their own fault for driving her to it.

Before she could do anything, Stiles stepped past her and said, “Add a medium Razzmatazz to that,” and handed over a twenty to the guy. He nodded and rang up the order, handed Stiles back his change, and went to work making the smoothies.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Malia put her wallet away and sighed. 

Stiles turned around to face her and they both stepped away from the cash register area as the sound of blenders started up. “Eh, it’s only, like, five bucks. It’s cool. You look like today hasn’t been very nice to you.” Stiles paused before quickly amending, “I don’t mean that in a bad way, though! Just that it seems a pick-me-up wouldn’t go unappreciated. I- ”

Malia gave a small laugh, amused despite herself at Stiles’ rambling attempt to fix what he’d said though she hadn’t been offended. “Yeah, you’ve definitely got that right. Today – this week actually – hasn’t really been going my way. So... Thanks, I guess. This is pretty much the first thing to go right in a while.”

“No problem.” Stiles rubbed the back of his neck in what seemed to be an unconscious movement. 

There was a small pause and whatever else he was going to say got cut of by the still-peppy voice of the worker guy saying, “Strawberries Wild and Razzmatazz, there you go.” Stiles turned and grabbed the smoothies and handed Malia’s to her.

“If you’re not busy, do you wanna sit and smoothie with me for a while?” Stiles asked, walking towards and gesturing to one of the round tables outside.

Raising one eyebrow, Malia returned an amused, “‘Smoothie with’ you?” She paused then continued with a, “Sure, why not?” as it looked liked Stiles was ramping to say… something. Malia wasn’t sure what he’d planned on saying, but from what she’d seen she was sure it would have been long winded and babble-y. Not that she minded. 

Stiles looked slightly stunned for a moment, like he hadn’t actually expected her to agree, before grinning at her and sitting. 

She followed his lead then took a sip of her smoothie, closing her eyes and enjoying the mellowing flavors. When Malia opened her eyes, Stiles’ grin was smaller but still there and he was watching her. “Thanks, again, Stiles. I really do appreciate it,” Malia said, raising her smoothie as if he wouldn’t know what she was talking about.

Again Stiles’ eyes widened, and Malia wondered if it was because he was surprised at her knowing his name though they’d never actually spoken before. They’d had at least a few classes together over the years, of that Malia was sure, but they had never been partnered together on projects or anything that would’ve had them talking. 

He recovered quickly enough and responded, “You’re welcome. Like I said, It’s no big deal. But hey, why were you so glum, earlier? I mean, nevermind. Sorry, you don’t have to answer that unless you want to. I pry. It’s a thing I do.” There was a quick beat before Stiles kept going. “Wait, did I really just say glum? I did. Who even says that anymore?” 

By the end of that, Stiles sounded like he was ready to ship himself off to an insane asylum for having said the word ‘glum’ and Malia was staring at the logo on her cup trying and failing not to crack up. 

When she looked up and saw the expression on Stiles face, matching his tone but with the added fact that it looked like he was trying to stare at himself incredulously, Malia’s laughter got louder and finally caught Stiles’ attention. “Sorry, Sorry,” she said between laughs, “I just– It has been a really sucky week that I’d rather not go into, but you’ve managed to bring up my mood in the span of one monologue.” Malia was finally getting control back and took a few deep breaths. “Thanks. I think I needed that.”

“Glad I could help.” Stiles was smiling again and Malia couldn’t help but smile back. “The only other option was to break out in song and dance but this is not High School Musical and I’ve been reliably informed that no one wants to see or hear that from me. Although, if my making a fool of myself is what got you to laugh than maybe that would have worked after all.”

“Song and dance was the _only_ other option?”

“Of course,” Stiles said very matter-of-factly though his smile took on a playful look. 

Malia laughed and shook her head as she sipped from her smoothie. “For the record, I don’t think you made a fool of yourself. You just,” She looked up, locking eyes with Stiles and quirking her lips, “Have a very interesting way with words.”

They stared at each other for a couple seconds before Stiles looked away and cleared his throat. He took a drink from his own smoothie then said, “So you like my ways with words and you don’t want to talk about your week. Lucky for you talking is something I’m very good at.” 

So talk they did. Stiles did most of it, obviously, often making Malia laugh and generally making her forget why she had even been in a bad mood in the first place. They talked about pretty much everything. They discovered a mutual love of all things superhero and spent a while debating the merits of Marvel versus DC. Malia talked a about what it was like living with so many people after Stiles mentioned how boring it sometimes got with just him and his dad. They reminisced about growing up in Beacon Hills and figured out where their memories overlapped–the most notable incident being in middle school when Malia had been witness to Jackson going apeshit about someone pranking him and it turned out Stiles had been the perpetrator. Eventually their smoothies were running low and they had somehow come to be closer to each other–physically, Malia meant, although she supposed it would work in the other sense as well. 

Sitting two feet away from Stiles, angled towards him and vice versa, Malia once again found her eyes locked with his. Suddenly things came crashing back to her and Malia was acutely aware that she still had yesterday’s makeup on, gum remnants in her hair, and was wearing a ratty old shirt and ripped jeans that had seen better days (specifically days where’d they been laundered lately and hadn’t only passed the sniff test with an apathetic shrug). She looked away and stood up quickly, interrupting what Stiles had been saying and almost knocking down her chair. Malia stumbled to right her chair and took a few steps back from the table.

“I– I gotta go.” That had come out way more abruptly than she meant it to. She needed to get away. She could not believe how stupid she had probably looked this entire time.

Stiles’ brows furrowed and he stood up too. “Oh. Okay.” He almost sounded disappointed. “Maybe you could give me your number? I had fun, with this, today.” Malia was still backing away and probably not being as subtle about it as she hoped.

“Um, I don’t actually have a phone.” She replied before turning and beginning to walk away quickly. Malia threw an, “I’ll see you around though,” over her shoulder because she really had enjoyed Stiles’ company but she didn’t know if she could ever face him again after this. Stupid, so stupid. She was so embarrassed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst! But, you know, the teenage relationship kind.
> 
>  
> 
> ~~(And hey, the wild possible plot appears)~~

“Things were going _good,_ Scott, and then she was practically running away and when I asked for her number her actual response was that _she didn’t have a phone._ I don’t understand what happened, or what I did, or… just... girls! I don’t understand girls!” Stiles made a sound that was probably akin to a choking duck and dropped dramatically into his desk chair like a puppet with its strings cut and swivelled to face Scott. 

Scott readjusted his position on Stiles’ bed, leaned against the headboard, and opened his mouth to answer before closing it and shaking his head. “I don’t know, man, girls don’t really makes sense to me, either.”

“Dude, you have a girlfriend!” _Stiles_ was the one who was painfully single. It was Scott’s duty as a bro - one who had documented success in dealing with the thought processes of girls - to help him.

“Yeah, but that’s- ” Oh brother, here it came, “Allison. And- ” Scott continued, unaware of Stiles’ inner monologue. The way he said her name made it sound like she was a literal goddess among men who’d appeared in a halo of light surrounded by white doves. Maybe Stiles should have known better than to ask Scott about this. In fact, he _really_ should have seen this coming. Not that he necessarily had anything against Allison - she was pretty badass - but to mention her or anything that could possibly be tangentially related to her around Scott was to bring about your own doom by way of sappiness and heart eyes. As Stiles tuned back in to what Scott was saying, though, he realized he may have just avoided that by getting lost in his own thoughts. Score one for Stiles. “ -So that’s why I think elephants should be allowed on the moon.” All Scott ever did was talk about Allison to anyone who would listen. It was like he was in his own world, oblivious to all else.

Wait. What?

Stiles jerked his head up to see Scott was now sitting criss-cross-applesauce (shut up, it was fun to say) and staring at him, eyebrows raised, with a knowing look. Okay, so maybe _Scott_ wasn’t always the oblivious one in his own little world. “Um,” Stiles tried, “Sorry?”

Scott, long since used to Stiles and his moments, just said, “I was just saying that I only _got_ a girlfriend because I took a chance with her- ”

“Yeah, because she’d been making eyes at you and you pretty much already knew it was a sure thing.” Stiles rolled his eyes and started spinning around in his chair, watching the ceiling as he spun.

“ -and asked her out,” Scott plowed on as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “And just because I’ve got a pretty good understanding of Allison doesn’t mean I suddenly understand girls as a whole. Every girl is different and obviously there was a reason behind Malia running off and telling you she didn’t have a phone. And it’s completely possible it has nothing to do with you, but you’re not gonna know unless you ask or something.”

Stiles paused his twirling, contemplating for a moment before he said, “Dude. That was really mature.” Scott smiled lopsidedly and shrugged. “You wanna go order a pizza and kill some zombies before my dad gets back?” Scott shrugged again as he jumped up off Stiles’ bed and they raced out his door, pushing at each other to try and make it downstairs first.

-

“Uuugh,” Malia let out the anguished cry that could only come from the ‘my world is ending’ level of teenaged angst she was feeling as she flopped face first onto her bed. “I hate everything,” she whined into her pillow.

A quick tap on her door was all the warning she got before Cora came in and jumped on top of her. “What’s wrong, Sissy?” she asked while Malia grunted at the weight that had crashed onto her. While they weren’t technically sisters, Malia and Cora had grown up together and become close enough that when they were eight and Cora had started calling her ‘Sissy’ to annoy her, Malia had gone with it with minimal grumbling.

“Well for starters,” Malia’s words were muffled by her pillow but she had no doubt Cora could understand her just fine, “You’re on my back and crushing me. Get off!” She rolled onto her side and threw Cora off of her and onto the ground, then continued rolling until she was starfished on her back over her bed. She turned her head and looked over to the jumbled heap of a smiling Cora on her floor and reluctantly laughed. “You’re ridiculous.” 

“Yeah, but it _worked,”_ Cora said, sitting up, “You’re not bemoaning your existence anymore.”

Malia rolled her eyes and hefted herself into a sitting position before Cora could decide to jump on her stomach as well. She waited as Cora arranged herself on Malia’s bed so they were facing each other. “I’m trying to be upset and I don’t appreciate you ruining that.”

“Sucks for you,” Cora replied unapologetically before reaching out, sticking her pointer fingers on either corner of Malia’s mouth, and pushing upwards, “Be happy.”

Malia smacked at her arms until she removed her fingers. It was almost impossible to stay truly upset around Cora’s ever-present goofiness. “But I don’t wanna,” Malia mostly-mock whined back. 

“Seriously, though, what’s up?” Cora asked, settling her hands in her lap, “Are you still upset about Matt?”

“No,” before Cora could call her out on how her heart had blipped, she amended, “Okay _yes_ but not why you might think. It technically has to do with Matt and this is all his fault but this isn’t about him.”

“Okaaaay,” Malia felt the tone of voice she used was entirely unnecessary, “Well, as much sense as _that_ made,” again, totally unnecessary, “You wanna maybe try that again? Coherently?”

With a sigh, Malia explained all that had happened earlier in the week and how she’d discovered her phone was gone and how she’d had to babysit the monsters. Cora winced in sympathy when she got to that part. Then Malia explained how she’d found the gum in her hair and how her wallet had been _empty,_ culprit unknown.

“I can see how that- ”

“No, I’m not done yet,” Malia cut Cora off, “So that all sucked and I was gonna come home and kill _everyone,_ but then Stiles paid for my smoothie and cracked a joke and made me laugh after all that horrible crap, and we talked. It was fun. He was funny and nice and everything was great until I realized what I was wearing and how I probably looked and...” she paused to take breath.

Cora, whose eyes had been growing since she’d said ‘Stiles’, took that as her chance to cut in. “Stiles?” she asked incredulously, “As in Stiles Stilinski?” Before that day, Cora had been the one to have more interaction with Stiles because they were both on the lacrosse team, but there obviously hadn’t been much substance to it since, “But he’s… _Stiles._ ”

Malia gave her a look and finished the end of her story of woes. “The worst part is, he asked for my number and I couldn’t give it to him because I don’t have my phone. So, like I said, this is all Matt’s fault.”

“So you have a crush on Stiles?” Cora didn’t quite manage to hide the skepticism when she said his name, but Malia wasn’t going to fault her for it; she hadn’t spent almost an entire afternoon getting to know him as more than the ‘inadequate at lacrosse’ guy. “Wait, when he asked for your number, what did you tell him?”

“That I didn’t have a phone,” Malia’s statement ended up sounding more like a question, “Why?”

Cora looked like she didn’t know whether to laugh or try to be supportive. “You realize he probably thought you were lying to get away from him, or not have to give him your number, or something? I mean, how plausible would you find it if a teenage girl told you she didn’t have a phone?”

Malia groaned again and fell back into her pillow. “I hate everything,” she grumbled into it. 

Cora just patted her back and said under her breath, “Aaand now we’ve come full circle.” After a few minutes of silence, Cora continued, “Okay, up. Come on.” Pulling Malia off the bed with her, she stood up and began pulling her out of her room. “Also, sometime either while you were gone or were up here moping, one of the Argents came by to tell us that there’s been reports of a rogue alpha that looks like it’s on its way to Beacon Hills.

Malia just sighed and let herself be pulled along to the family room. “Typical,” she began muttering, “Of course I can’t just deal with normal teenage problems for a while. No! Let’s just throw in a rogue alpha for fun.”

“Hey, what’d you expect? That our lives would suddenly become normal?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, this author's fuel is one of comments and kudos! ~~They make me very happy.~~


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so I'm not dead! *jazz hands* 
> 
> Again, I'm sorry about the wait, but I'm definitely still updating. Slow and steady wins the race, right?
> 
> So, I meant for this chapter to be more action-y, but then Stiles went and got his snoop on and stopped cooperating. And then he got caught. That's what he gets for not listening to me.
> 
> Criticism, opinions, and comments always welcome!

Two weeks after what Stiles had taken to calling the ‘Jamba Juice Incident’, Stiles was getting antsy. He had wanted to see Malia again, but he didn’t exactly have any way of contacting her. He couldn’t call or text her for obvious reasons, and it wasn’t like he could just go into town and hope to happen upon her again. There was also no _way_ he was going to try showing up at the Hale house to talk to her. That would be like going to see one puppy in a room full of puppies and expecting the others not to come after you. Only, in a much less pleasant way than if they were actual puppies. Maybe if they were, like, wolf puppies with super sharp teeth or something. Yeah, okay, Stiles didn’t really understand where he had been going with that metaphor either. 

The _point_ was, the Hales were intimidating people and so Stiles couldn’t go talk to Malia. He figured he’d have to wait until school started and see if he could find her then, and considering he only had a week of summer left, he thought it wouldn’t be too hard to wait. Only, Stiles was bored; he was the type of person who always needed to be doing something to keep him occupied, and squandering away his last week of summer before the start of his senior year was not something he was willing to do. Stiles wanted excitement and adventure, not sitting around and waiting to go back to the soul sucking institution that was school. 

So, with lack of any better ideas or anything better to do, Stiles had been more snoopy than usual into his dad’s business. The Sheriff wasn’t always dealing with something interesting enough to snoop about, seeing as Beacon Hills was a small town, but it was usually pretty obvious when things worth finding out about came up. Stiles had long since trained his dad out of trying to hide stuff from him, teaching him it wasn’t worth it and Stiles always found out anyway, but occasionally Sheriff Mode™ reared its ugly head Stiles was met with a challenge when he wanted to know things.

For the last week or so, Stiles had noticed his dad’s ‘subtle’ attempts at keeping him from knowing what he was working on–which, of course, only made Stiles more curious. Therefore, here he was snooping around in his dad’s study while he worked a late shift at the station. So far Stiles had found nothing of note, just stacks of way too much boring and overly-pretentious sounding government paperwork. He finished searching the last of the papers on top of his dad’s desk and moved on to the drawers. Contrary to what most people would probably believe, the Sheriff’s work space was extremely messy and unorganized–although his dad always argued he knew exactly where everything was and that everything had its place. All this meant was that Stiles’ job was made ten thousand times harder. He had to make sure he didn’t disturb the ‘order’ of things and make his dad aware he was snooping, but he also needed to be thorough enough to make sure he didn’t miss anything juicy. 

Stiles continued rooting through the drawers until all he had left was the bottom right one with a built-in lock on it. He sighed and leaned back in the office chair he was sitting in. Why did his dad have to make it extra hard for him to meddle in police business? It was just inconsiderate! Hopefully, though, the _locked_ part of the locked drawer meant there was something interesting in it. 

With renewed enthusiasm, Stiles jumped out of the chair and headed to his room. He had a set of completely legally obtained lockpicks that he was pretty handy with, if he did say so himself. Opening his closet door and pushing some dirty laundry out of the way–Don’t judge! He’s a teenage boy with a Sheriff father, there were limited places he could hide things and what father would want to go digging in his son’s dirty underwear?–Stiles reached to the back corner and pulled up the loose carpet to retrieve his set of picks. With his prize in hand he went back to the study and set to work on the drawer’s lock. 

It wasn’t like the movies. It didn’t take ten seconds and two twists of the wrist to get him in. Rather, Stiles spent the next few minutes attempting to pick the lock. He wasn’t exactly an expert, and he hadn’t practiced in a while, and to top it off this was a lock used by his father, the Sheriff. And yes he was making excuses, but hey, he’d like to see someone else try lockpicking before they go and judge him and his possibly lackluster criminal skills. 

The running commentary in his mind kept Stiles semi distracted while he held the tension wrench and wiggled the short hook in the pins of the keyhole. At one point he’d done a whole research marathon on lockpicking and the best techniques, but mostly what he had gathered was that one, it varied from lock to lock (Yeah, _that_ was helpful.) and two, you pretty much just wiggled and jiggled the hook until you heard the pins fall into place. So it wasn’t like it really required higher mental capacity, he reasoned. And then his mind went off on the tangent of considering the different levels of required smarts for different criminal activities.

Shaking himself and realizing he should probably focus, Stiles went back to the task at hand. It didn’t take much longer before he heard the telltale click and was able to use the wrench and hook to turn the keyhole clockwise, unlocking it. He let out a whoop and threw his fists in the air like he was at a lacrosse game and had just made the winning goal. (Sure, like that was likely.) ((Oh, shut up.)) ( _You_ shut up.) _Both of you shut up! Guys, I’m not Deadpool. I have no excuse for arguing with myself in my thoughts!_

Stiles stopped and thought for a second. Had he taken his Adderall that morning? Huh. That would probably explain his lack of ability to focus right now. If he ever truly went into the criminal business, he would have to make sure to remember to down some pills before heading out on exploits. If this had been a real break-in/theft, he’d have been caught in, like, three seconds.

Focus, Stiles! He’d gotten the drawer unlocked, and now he could see what was in it! Stiles leaned forward excitedly to look at the contents of the drawer. There was a map on the very top, with some files mixed other loose papers beneath it. At first glance, it was disappointingly boring and just like everything else he’d found so far. When he looked closer, however, Stiles saw that the map was of the West Coast, and when he picked it up there was another map under it, this one zoomed in more to show Beacon County and the surrounding areas. There was a series of _x_ ’s leading toward–Or possibly away? No, it made more sense that they were coming closer if his dad was just getting in on whatever it was–Beacon Hills. Setting the maps aside, Stiles grabbed the stack of files and separated each file, making a semi-circle of yellow folders on the floor around him. He picked up the first file in his newly made arc–the one that had been on top–and opened it, and was immediately met with gruesome pictures of what looked like a slasher victim. Only, it was just a deer. An admittedly massacred deer, but Stiles breathed a sigh of relief, considering his first look had made him think he’d stumbled into some horrible serial killer case. 

Figures, his life wouldn’t be that interesting. 

Or, wait, shouldn’t he be grateful there wasn’t a murderer on their way to his hometown? Eh, whatever. At least it wouldn’t have been boring.

Another half an hour found the floor of his dad’s study covered in papers and maps. Stiles was in the zone. He’d found the rest of the files to contain more mutilated animals and the site of each mutilation corresponded with an _x_ on the map. There were reports that had been filed by the California Department of Fish and Wildlife, stating a decline in deer population in each area an _x_ was placed, and surmising there were many more ‘victims’ that hadn’t been found and documented. It seemed that everyone thought there was a rabid animal on the loose (No shit, Sherlock.) that was making its way up through California and was almost to Beacon Hills. The general consensus also seemed to be that is was a cougar or a mountain lion, (Wait, weren’t those the same thing?) but something didn’t feel right to Stiles. He didn’t know what it was, but something about all of this was just off. Stiles was so absorbed in trying to figure it out, he didn’t notice his dad come home. He also didn’t notice him standing in the study’s open doorway watching as Stiles moved papers around to try and find a connection or a reason for this to be weirding him out.

“I’d ask if I can help you, but it looks like you helped yourself.” Stiles yelped and jerked his head up to stare at his dad as he stood there with his arms crossed. And look, there was the Sheriff Mode™ disapproving frown. Yeah, Stiles would definitely have been arrested in no time flat had this been a real burglary.

“Heeey, dad. I didn’t hear you come in.” Stiles could totally act casual here, right? He worked on righting himself to a sit after he’d fallen on his back in surprise. At the same time he tried to casually move his lockpick set out of sight, hoping his dad would think he’d just forgotten to lock the drawer before he left.

“Uh huh. I think that much was obvious.” His dad did not look impressed by Stiles’ attempt to act natural. He sighed and held out his hand, moving into the room and trying to avoid stepping on papers. At any other time it would have been funny to watch his father do what looked like some sort of complicated dance. “Give them here, Stiles. Don’t think you’re subtle enough to get those by me.” Stiles bit back a whine and handed them over. It was going to be a bitch to get another set. Completely legally, of course. “I’m not even going to ask how you got these. I _am,_ however, going to ask why you felt you it necessary to break into my things to look at potentially _confidential_ police information.” 

Stiles wilted under his dad’s glare. He had yet to even try to stand up, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to argue. Just a little. “Oh come on! It’s a bunch of animal attacks, not the code to evidence lock-up, or, like, a murder investigation with sensitive information, or something.” The Sheriff’s eyebrows rose when he mentioned the code to evidence lock-up. Crap. He probably shouldn’t have brought that up; he’d known the code for a while now, and his dad had yet to figure that out. Stiles hoped he hadn’t just clued him into the fact.

“You know that’s not the point Stiles,” the glare was back, “Just because you are a cop’s kid does not make it okay for you to go through information meant only for police, or for you to pick and choose which laws you want to follow. These,” The Sheriff held up his tools, “are most definitely not legal and I could arrest you right now seeing as I know you used them for nefarious purposes and probably would have again had you not been caught.” Only his dad could use words like ‘nefarious’ and still sound intimidating. Sounding as though he already knew the answer, he continued, “Now, do you have an actual reason for being in here that I’d want to hear? If not I’d suggest you clean this mess up and try to stay out of trouble until school starts. You’re on warning.” 

Stiles imagined telling his dad that he’d been bored wouldn’t go over well, so he shook his head. The Sheriff sighed again and nodded, walking out of the room and leaving Stiles alone. Stiles was now kind of grateful there hadn’t been anything more interesting to find. If he’d stumbled upon a more serious case, he’d for sure have still gotten engrossed in it and gotten caught as he had now. At least now he was just on warning instead of getting grounded or something like that in the last week of summer. ‘Warning’ meant he wasn’t exactly in trouble, but he needed to tread carefully in the weeks to come. 

As it was, it had been an eventful night, and Stiles wondered if anything would come of it.


End file.
